I've Had The Time Of My Life
by MidnightMarauderer
Summary: This is an AU multi-chapter fic, based on the storyline of Dirty Dancing. Pairing: RL/SB.
1. Chapter 1

_That was the summer of 1963, when everybody called me Puppy and it didn't occur to me to mind. That was before the American president J.F. Kennedy was shot, when the Beatles were still four lads from Liverpool, when I couldn't wait to start an academic career at Oxbridge, and when I didn't believe I'd ever escape the path my parents had laid out before me._

_That was the summer we went to Lestrange's._

It was one of those old manor houses, the kind that had been put to commercial use only in recent years. The Blacks were not the first notable family to vacation here, only it just so happened that Sirius' cousins had married into the Lestrange family and as such it was only fitting that they visit at least once before their eldest son and heir had packed off for university. Ignoring the protests of his parents, Sirius rolled down the window of the car, sticking his head out just enough that he could see the place he would be spending the next couple of weeks.

Sirius' vision was obscured by his hair, long raven strands becoming increasingly tangled as they whipped at his face. But he could see it well enough. He was merely leaving one prison for another, only this one was filled with even more people like his parents, each battling to prove their worth and their wealth. It was common knowledge that this was where you came to meet your match. Sirius probably wouldn't escape the summer without his parents having hand-picked a suitable girl of noble birth for him to marry. Yet if his parents knew for a second what their son really thought of that idea, they'd probably disown him altogether. Coupled with the tacky entertainment, feeble attempts at keeping their guests satisfactorily occupied, this whole charade struck him as ridiculous.

His brother, Regulus, was sat beside him in the back seat but with all the dignity and sense of self-worth that Sirius lacked. As Sirius ducked back into the car, winding the window back up after him and an expression of dread ghosting across his features, Regulus gave a derisive scoff. "Great way to make your appearance, Pup" he sneered as Sirius attempted to groom his untidy hair as his mother had before they left for the manor in the early hours of the morning, his voice carefully laced with sarcasm.

"Fuck off, Reg," Sirius answered in retort, a mistake on his part, for his mother turned around in her seat solely to scowl at his ill-chosen words.

"Never say those foul words again, not here!" she said, her voice cold and shrill, but it was evident that she was suppressing her temper for the time being. Walburga Black loved to scold Sirius, but she would willingly pass off the opportunity to do just that if the family's reputation was at stake.

As they reached the end of the drive, there was already a crowd gathering. It seemed the Prewett's had arrived only moments before them, just in time for his mother to turn her nose up at their flaming red hair and general uncouth appearance. Anyone could stay at Lestrange manor so long as they had money, gossip and family feuds being more an inevitability of their visit.

As Orion Black brought the car to a stop, Sirius caught a glimpse of his older cousin, Bellatrix. Marriage suited her, that much was obvious. Her bone structure was naturally elegant, but sharp, only to be softened by the lustrous curls that shaped her face and trailed down the length of her back. However, her expression was anything but welcoming as she greeted the new arrivals.

Fortunately it was Bellatrix's father-in-law who appeared before them as they stepped out of the car. Egbert Lestrange possessed everything one would expect from the owner of a cluster of manor houses; he was well-groomed, hair slicked back to reveal a receding hairline whilst clad in a suit of a fine pin-striped material. His demeanour was inviting, yet it gave nothing away. He was a businessman through and through.

"Orion," he said, greeting Sirius' father like an old friend, which they were, of sorts, having worked together in the past before their own ambitions grew too strong. "Your arrival will cause quite a stir."

Sirius wasn't entirely sure where the conversation went from there. Mr Lestrange had not arrived unaccompanied. As he spoke to Orion, the attendant around Sirius' age with mousy brown hair and slightly on the chubby side had made his way to the trunk of the car.

"I've got that," Sirius said, taking his suitcase from the trunk before the boy could burden himself with yet another.

"You know this is my job, right?" the boy laughed, and he couldn't disguise the element of surprise that crossed his features as Sirius proceeded to assist him, the assistant. Apparently, few of the guests ever saw fit to carry their own bags to their rooms. Sirius must have looked confused because when he failed to answer the boy only cocked his head slightly before giving a shrug of resignation. "I'm Peter," he contined. "But most call me Wormtail. And before you ask, _don't ask_."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told. He didn't ask. "M'name's Sirius," he replied, leaving out the part about what most people called him. Initially it was spoken with affection. Now, it was purely derogatory. Puppy. Where was the manliness in that? No where, that's what.

"You know," said Wormtail. "You might just like it here."

Sirius would have been surprised if he'd managed to contain his scepticism. What was there to like about a place filled with distant family relatives or those who were only a contract away from being relatives? Sirius' parents had an array of girls lined up for him, but none of them were his type. Not even close, he thought, a smirk creeping onto his lips and threatening to give him away. Peter looked at him curiously, but like a good employee he didn't ask questions. Instead, he merely emitted another laugh before taking the suitcase from Sirius' arms before he could stop him.

"See you around, Sirius."

Sirius watched him leave, cursing the back of him for being on the mere sidelines of all of this. Sirius didn't know Peter, but he'd already made up his mind about him. Peter didn't have family obligations pressing in around him, suffocating him with their tight grip.

"Come along, Pup." This time it was his mother who addressed him as such, not even sparing him a glance before following his father and Mr Lestrange into the manor house. But Sirius held his ground. Looking up at the vast building before him, the row upon row of windows, each intricately lined with rich ivy, Sirius made a silent vow. This was his last chance to stray from that very path he loathed so much. When he left this house, whether it was for better or worse, he'd follow a road of his own making.


	2. Chapter 2

Sirius didn't stick around to unpack. It worked in his favour that his mother and father wanted him mingling with the other guests. When there was a knock on the door, Sirius managed to open it and slip out without so much as a word of protest from Walburga and Orion Black.

James Potter was Sirius' oldest friend, and it just so happened that he often spent his summer here. He always came alone. James' parents might have been equally as wealthy and esteemed as the Blacks but they were scholars and as such they had little time for summer holidays or the shenanigans of other families who vacationed at Lestrange Manor.

"Remind me why you come here every year?" Sirius asked as they hurried down the corridor. James' presence was already having an effect on him. He felt far less constricted with frustration at his family, as if a band around his chest had been loosened allowing him his first deep breath of fresh air.

James and Sirius' family were nothing alike. His glasses were usually askew and his tousled hair gave Sirius' a run for its money. The only similarity is that he had a certain arrogance that simply came with natural good looks and being the star athlete at their school.

"You'll see her soon enough," was James' sole answer, already unable to control the smile that crept across his lips at the mere mention of her. "She's beautiful, Pads. Even _you_ wouldn't be able to keep your eyes off her."

Padfoot, or Pads, had been James' idea for a nickname. As he explained, every puppy needed a name. And the girl in question was one James had been going on about for only two whole years now, ever since his first visit. This would be James' third summer at Lestrange Manor. Sirius still remembered the day James returned to school speaking words of love and fondness for a so called Lily Evans whom he hadn't even spoken so much as two words to.

"I doubt any girl's worth all the work you've put in, mate."

"Yeah, well... So are you going to tell them?"

"Tell them what?" Sirius shot back, digging through his pockets for his box of cigarettes and a distraction. _That I'm a big gay poofter_. James knew. He never said it, thank God for that. But he knew none the less.

"Nevermind."

The walls of the manor were of dark wood panels and on a grey day like today it was grim to say the least. Most guests were in the gardens which stretched out behind it and beyond that the golf course. Sirius couldn't so much as look at the place without a twist of loathing in the pit of his stomach.

"She must be special," he continued, holding out the box to James who plucked a cigarette from its contents.

"She is," James said wistfully, placing the cigarette between his lips.

Both young men came to a halt as Sirius lit the tips with his lighter, snapping the cap shut before returning it to his pocket.

"Seriously Pads, just wait until you see her. And when she _dances!_" James resorted to theatrics, holding a palm to his heart and shaking his head in disbelief.

Sirius took a drag from his cigarette, casting James an amused side-glance. If anyone from school could see the state he'd gotten himself in over this Evans girl, he'd never live it down.

"There's just one problem," James continued.

"You mean other than your complete and utter lack of charm and sex appeal?" Sirius laughed.

"No. Fuck off! It's Snivellus." They resumed their walk through the gardens, ignoring anyone whom they crossed paths with, far too engrossed in their own concerns to exchange small talk and niceties.

"He's not here is he?" James had left that part out. For the past seven years James and Sirius had been best mates and for each of the seven years Severus Snape had been their sworn enemy. The whole school knew of this feud. Sirius had been under the impression he'd left that behind when they'd graduated, but apparently the universe wasn't ready to grant him that mercy.

"He's here every year. And what's worse, they're friends. Or more than friends, I don't know." James spoke animatedly, ash falling from the tip of his cigarette as he waved it through the air. Instinctively, he ran a hair through his already messy hair, something Sirius knew he only did whenever he felt it necessary to try and _act_ cool rather than simply be it.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the action. Something told him that if this girl was hanging around with the likes of Snivellus she didn't care much for outward appearance. Severus Snape was the greasiest, big-nosed arsehole Sirius had ever encountered.

"Don't worry about Snivellus. She'll see exactly what he's worth soon enough."

James looked doubtful, taking a moment to toy with Sirius' words of attempted reassurance, but he clearly appreciated them none the less.

"You're coming to the dance tonight, right?"

Sirius didn't miss the edge of hopefulness in James' voice. As he took another drag of his cigarette, Sirius wondered how James had coped with the place so long without him. He may not care much for his immediate surroundings but he'd certainly strive to make the most of a bad situation.

"Prongs," he began with an air of theatricality to rival James', "I even came prepared with your favourite whiskey." Sirius' lips tugged into a smirk as the memory washed over James in a wave of comprehension; a prank confession of undying attraction to the most popular boy in the school Caradoc Dearborn only to have him say it back, a dance atop the table in the Common Room, followed by a good few hours with James' head over the toilet bowl. He and James never failed to stray towards trouble.

"Lagavulin," James said, cringing, before dropping his diminished cigarette onto the gravel and stamping it out and with it his embarrassment. "Bastard," he muttered under his breath.


End file.
